Stigma
by Lilanac
Summary: Everything always ended this way. Everything will always end.


******Stigma, n: The center of a flower; shame.

* * *

**

"What in the _hell_ do you think you're doing?"

Prussia stood in the doorway, a disgusted look on his face. Austria froze, hand still poised over Hungary's face.

"Do you know how to knock?" He sneered, ignoring Hungary's wavering at his feet. Balancing on her knees was too much, and she fell halfway to the ground, clutching at Austria's boots weakly. Her tear-stained face was pressed into the ground.

"Just ignore it, Gilbert," she whispered, her face tear stained and red. "It's nothing I can't handle on my own." Prussia stared at her incredulously as Austria moved away as if he were sloughing scum from the soles of his expensive-looking boots. Hungary sighed and slid the rest of the way down to the floor, staining the carpet with god knows what.

"Ignore it? I couldn't ignore it if I wanted to, Eliza. What is this bastard doing to you?"

"I'm not doing anything to her."

"The hell you aren't! Look at her!" Hungary's eyes were fluttering closed, though she fought to keep them open. Prussia lunged forward into the disheveled room, but was stopped cold as Austria's arms encircled him. "Let go of me!" He struggled violently, to no avail.

"You're not even a nation anymore, Gilbert. Do you really think you could break me? I've known you longer than Elizaveta, and I've always been stronger."

…_always been stronger_

_always._

_I will always win._

_I've always been stronger._

_I've been much stronger than this._

_I _am_ much stronger than this._

Prussia lunged forward again, surprising Austria after his moment of silence. But Prussia was done thinking, and he struggled even harder. When he felt Austria's grip weaken for a split second, he snapped a foot down onto the brunette's feet – just as he had suspected, the cheap boots lacked steel toes. Austria released him in surprise and pain, and Prussia shot forward to scoop Hungary into his arms, turning 180° and sprinting out the way he had come. Austria collapsed onto a nearby ottoman, clutching his shattered foot tightly, watching Prussia escape with his Hungary.

Prussia ran all the way back to his house, trying not to jostle Hungary too much. He was panting when he finally made it to the bathroom, but made sure to set her down gently. Hopefully, she'd recover enough to talk soon – Prussia didn't exactly want more time to process what he'd seen.

_I knew this would happen. I knew it, I knew it. Why did I let her go? Why did I ever trust that Austrian bastard? Didn't Mozart lop off an ear or something? Musicians. I should have known. Why didn't I know, verdammt? Why didn't I suspect something?_

He sat on the floor across from her, watching her closed eyelids twitch. He noticed more bruises – old, yellowing ones across her collarbones; newer, purple abrasions that showed where her dress was torn. Her face was red and wet, and he could clearly make out hand prints on her cheekbone and shoulders. Thankfully, there was very little blood, only a trail sluggishly moving down one ankle. Prussia hoped it wasn't a result of his heroic trip through the woods – roads took too long, and she obviously needed care – but he hadn't the time to feel guilty, as Hungary opened her eyes slowly.

"Rod... Gilbert?" Prussia leaned closer. She sighed slowly. "Where is Roderich?"

Prussia ground his teeth. She still wanted that – that thing. He took a deep breath and helped her stand, setting her on the edge of his white bathtub.

"Can you support yourself?" Hungary looked confused for a moment but nodded. Prussia let go slowly and jumped up to wet a washcloth when she seemed stable. He looked at her for a moment, and when she realized he was waiting for permission to touch her, she nodded. He gingerly held her hair back and dabbed at the salt on her face. Hungary cringed when he rubbed at a few scrapes and he apologized quietly, the situation still replaying in his head. Prussia took care of her ankle, Hungary grasping his hair for balance without him beside her. Prussia winced but ignored it, quiet for once.

When she was relatively clean, he gave her a brush and set to work bandaging her bleeding leg as she combed out her tangled hair. The wound was worse than he had thought it was, and he hesitated, glancing up at her.

"I didn't, ...did I?"

"No," she replied quietly, refusing to meet his eyes. "Letter opener."

Prussia swallowed harshly, angrily, but banished the red that clouded his vision for later. Right now, he had someone to take care of.

Soon, Hungary was all patched up – more or less. There wasn't much Prussia could do for the older wounds, and he didn't usually store much medical supplies anyway. He led her downstairs – she was wobbly but able to walk – and laid her on the couch with a red blanket and a glass of water. She fell asleep almost instantly, hair fanning out over the pillows. Prussia noticed the flower she usually kept in her hair was crushed, forgotten as she had brushed her hair. Bleeding petals were strewn throughout her hair – still whole, but broken. He sighed. Checking to make sure she wasn't going to wake up, Prussia softly picked out the dusty pink petals, piling them neatly on the end table. He pulled a cushion over and rested his forehead on the couch, mentally checking to be sure he had locked all the doors and windows. He fell asleep, too, subconsciously clutching her hand.

_White dress, gilded vases and red roses – candles and wineglasses and row upon row of friends and family. Prussia stood at the front of the room, waiting apprehensively as the music played, watching the doors at the other side of the church. Waiting for them to open. _

_Open. _

_Open?_

Prussia started from his dream, realizing that Hungary was awake as soon as his eyes open. Her hand was tangled in his hair from weakly trying to wake him up.

"I feel better now. Thank you." Prussia's eyes were weak with sleep and he blinked a few times.

This wasn't his Hungary, he reminded himself. This is someone else.

He couldn't convince himself.

Hungary stood up slowly but steadily. She turned to look at him, her dress ragged and with circles under her eyes. He noticed absently that the stem and black center of her flower were still situated behind her ear. Where were the petals? Why was she missing the colour? He glanced at the end table, realizing that they weren't where he had left them so neatly. A splash of pink caught his eye and he saw them torn apart, scattered around where he had been sleeping.

He glanced at her questioningly, but she wasn't looking at him. Her eyes were blank, absently gazing out a window.

"I appreciate what you've done for me. But I'd like to go home now."

Prussia sat on the front step, watching as she disappeared into the cab of an ancient German car. Austria helped her into the passenger seat, both pointedly not looking at him. Prussia furiously glared daggers at his flower bed until they had left. When the noisy exhaust had faded around the corner, he slumped over onto the concrete. Ignoring the miniscule rips formed in his usually dignified blue uniform, his eyes closed slowly until only sharp crescents of red were showing.

Everything always ended this way.

_Everything always ended like this._

_Everything will always end._


End file.
